Mother's Tea
by Strawberry L
Summary: Kazuki dwells on his past as he has difficuly letting go. Juubei urges him to move forward. Slight shounenai overtones. Juubei x Kazuki


Title: Mother's Tea

By: Strawberry L

Fandom: Get Backers

Pairing: Juubei x Kazuki

Rating: PG

Warnings: shounen-ai implications and a few hints at what occurs later in the series (ep 25 +)

Disclaimer: I don't own Get Backers. I'm not making any money off of this, though I did write this originally as a paper for my creative writing class. And I think it's being put in Galimaufry this year... whoops. ;

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Kazuki's POV

My early life was built on a bed of traditions frozen in my family for nearly 500 years. I could always imagine my mother on her strawberry red bicycle with me clinging to the back as we went to the market, though it never once occurred. I watched those people go by through the wavering of the thick velvet curtain as my mother and I rode through the rough cobbled paths that wound between shacks and buildings alike. I saw the warped wooden signs advertising at markets, ramen booths, fabric stores, and bars. The world outside my home was foreign to me, otherworldly and modern. In my freshly starched kimono I was following my mother to a garden ceremony, not an arcade.

"Pay attention", mother always snapped, prompting me to follow her out onto the gravel walk. The faded weather worm gates welcomed us, grand in their size and stature. Silently we traversed along the granite slabs, our sandals echoing into the hazy must of air surrounding us. I paused most briefly at the pond to watch the spotted koi, red like the sun at rise, swim lazily below the surface. Leaning closer my hand rested on the moss covered trunk of a large banzai tree, its branches fanning out above me like a an umbrella in a storm, which momentarily blocked my view of the fish. I suppressed my desire to step closer into the muddy bank. Mother was waiting.

I washed my hands in the graying stone well before slipping off my sandals to feel the woven tatami under my feet. The room was small, barely accommodating the three people I found myself with now, and had a low ceiling. Two sliding doors led into the room, one from the outside through which I had entered, and one from the back of the room the led to the rest of the house.

"Stop it", he enters the room reprimanding me.

"Not doing anything", I grumble.

"You're thinking about her again."

I fume over my freshly steeped cup of green chai, watching him in the kitchen all the while. My eyes follow his movements from the doorframe to the fridge, each move careful, planned, and familiar to him. I watch as he opens the fridge groping for the milk.

"It's on the top shelf to the right, sorry", I amend. He nods to me, taking the milk and setting it on the firmica by the stove. The pots clank until he finds the right one, placing it on the back burner. I look away, already knowing how the process will finish. Even I could do it with my eyes closed. I stand, my tea in hand, and grab my thick fur lined winter coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I left the address on the counter." I open the front door of the apartment and walk out. Mother is waiting.

"But Kazuki, I can't..." The door slams.

I know he can't see.

I follow the familiar streets, always walking the several mile distance to my mother's home. Not much is left 12 years later. Despite the heavily overgrown weeds that seem to invade more with every visit, I can still picture the entire estate as if I still lived there. Now only the cement blocks serve as a reminder of where buildings once stood, the glory of my family. I sip my tea.

Despite the crammed arrangements, mother always insisted on tea ceremonies. Kneeling next to her I watched the turning of the bowl, my knees going numb even after years of practice. I watched the whisk, worked just correctly, as it frothed the tea. Mother always drank first, turning her bowl before passing it to me. The same was expected of me, and though I did my best I was always corrected. I had needed to be better.

I felt his hand on my shoulder as he flicks my bell, trying to smile.

"Let it go."

"I will", I whisper, not looking at him. We walk back together, throwing out the tea on our way.

End.

A.C. – Reviews are love!!


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